


Not a Nightmare

by kikibug13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/pseuds/kikibug13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have thought a good dream would make Bucky seek out being closer to Steve faster than any nightmare?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akurou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akurou/gifts).



> This is set in some theoretical post-Winter Soldier circumstances. Implied relationship before the movie, implied very broken Bucky living with Steve, sans bionic arm. (Yes, that leaves him only one arm.) Path to healing fic.

Steve stirred, slightly, then settled again, one arm tossed over his head. And then, two heartbeats later, he sat up, eyes fixed on Bucky unerringly through the shadows. A long moment, making sure that Bucky wasn't moving, and he relaxed, rubbing his eyes and slumping slightly against the headboard, broad shoulders straining the plain cotton t-shirt he was sleeping in.

"Another nightmare?"

Bucky was sitting down against the door-frame, too low to be actually watching Steve sleep, but close enough to hear his breathing, to see the outline of his body under the cover. He didn't get up, or even turn more fully towards his friend, but he answered promptly, "no, actually. It was... a good one."

It was rare, to have a good dream. In fact, he hadn't had one since they'd been living together, and he couldn't quite remember how long before that. It was either confusing ones, nightmares, or sleeping like the dead, the last option preferable. Steve knew - screams had woken him up more than once, and he'd had to raise his friend many times, in the weeks which had passed. 

He drew some conclusions soon enough, despite fighting his own sleepiness. 

"You're worried."

"Yeah. No. I don't know."

"I'm fine, Buck."

Bucky surprised even himself, then. He smiled. 

"I know. It was just... somehow harder to be away, after remembering in the dream. Remember that poop-colored house down two blocks from our first apartment? We had a snowball fight around its corner, one winter. Then we had no heating, so we bundled up in the blankets on the bigger bed."

They'd almost kissed, that night. They'd been so close that Bucky had almost been able to taste the older boy on his upper lip. They hadn't (that had come later), but had felt so good, anyway. Anticipation, hope, coiling around them under the threadbare blankets.

"Who'd have thought that the good dreams could send me here faster than the bad ones?"

Steve was quiet, but his breathing was hitching, slightly. And then his voice was low - uncertain and hopeful and tears-strained, though he wasn't crying, not right now. "Wanna come up here?"

Bucky's turn for silence. Then he lightly, if slowly, got to his feet. By the time he'd reached the bed, Steve had turned the cover out, welcoming him under it, and Bucky slipped inside as though he belonged. Still slow, hesitant, Steve's arms wrapped around him, then tightened. It was Steve's turn to bury his face into Bucky's hair (that night, it had been the other way around). Bucky's arm came up, holding on to the blond's shoulders, tight.

"Bucky..."

"I know. I know, Steve." Whispering didn't make the words any less ragged. 

"It'll be all right."

Bucky choked out something between a sob and a laugh.

"It'd better be. It'd _better_ be," his voice was suddenly tense, low, determined. "Because I love you, you punk, and I can't have you stuck with somebody broken. All right?"

Steve's lips were on his face, hot, soft, but Bucky could still taste salt before the response came.

"All right, Buck. Definitely all right."

It was a long time before either of them drifted off again, but when they - eventually - stumbled out of bed for coffee, Steve was smiling.


End file.
